Tin Mans Throne
by OkComputer
Summary: Those times, when you can’t choose, those could end up being the most important. Set in Season 6. Brooke/OC femslash. Naley and Leyton as well. Possible spoilers for S6. First story, so read away.
1. Lives

**So, first story. Title taken from a song by Cassino. It'll be following Brooke, and an OC of mine mostly, but some POV's will change it up. This will feature spoilers/possible spoilers for S6, so be warned. However this will be more of my own timeline and take of what could be. Set in S6 and I'm thinking about the chapters (after the initial introductions and whatev) being in more of an episodic format. Rated T for some language and whatnot. I figure since they've been bringing in the most random of characters for Brooke (Chase, Owen?) I could bring my own, ha. Eventual Brooke/O.C femslash, mhmm. Some NH lovin' and mentions of LP. But, hell, I don't even know what could go on later. **

**And my rantings are finished**

**I own nothin' – ferserious.**

* * *

Brooke Davis was many things at the moment; surprised, flustered, restless, slightly buzzed and a tad bit bloated.

It had been only two hours prior that she had received the phone call informing her that she was indeed being considered as a possible candidate for adoption. 20 minutes after this she was subjected to the unusually perky voice of Peyton informing her that she was currently in Las Vegas, minutes away from becoming the lovely Mrs. Scott.

It was at this moment that Brooke Penelope Davis truly knew what it was like to feel conflicted. She had been in the midst of a fabulous Haagen Dazs binge, relishing in the news of a possible adoption somewhere in the future. It was Chocolate-Chocolate, but for this occasion, her next meal seemed much like necessary collateral damage.

So naturally, after half a pint of pure chocolate bliss, she calls Peyton.

"Brooke!" - Evidently, inebriated Peyton is a shrill Peyton.

"P.Sawyer, you will never belie-"

"Lucas and I, we're getting married!"

And the line went dead. Brooke's heart may have stopped; but that is debatable. The thought of honeymoon rituals being performed pre-ceremony, however was enough to bring her out of this stupor. And so, Brooke's post-adoption news honeymoon phase (oh, the irony) was done with.

But why the marriage bothered her, she wasn't sure. And that's how the fabulous and composed Brooke Davis found herself at 1:30 in the morning, pacing the floor of Clothes Over Bro's. Brow furrowed, arms flailing, incoherent mumbling, full on marching.

"Pep talk B.Davis – this is great news. This is fan-friggin'-tastic news. Finally, really. I mean this has been years in the making. I don't love Lucas. No. Then there is absolutely no problem. Whatsoever."

Contemplative Brooke walked herself through ever square inch of that building. Every tile and wall, until she realized, it was not about her loving anyone; and that was just the problem.

Maybe that made her a little bit jealous of the Broody-bunch. Maybe it made her envious, or some other deadly sin. But Brooke Penelope Davis deserves love. And, maybe, a little part of her needs it.

* * *

The bus had been late arriving to the terminal. Then it had hit traffic – the kind with police officers and big, light up orange signs. So, naturally it didn't pull in to the Tree Hill Bus Station until 1:42 a.m, Eastern Standard Time.

And, of course, Jess Landry is not a morning person.

The man she had sat next to seemed to form bonds rather quickly, so therefore, out of the risk of seeming rude, Jess had listened to him lecture on about the importance of a good Cornerback, and something else related to athletics.

Not that it was a terrible ride – she'd had worse – but the whole reason for this trip added to the "suck factor."

Her cousin was dead. Or, half-cousin, as she had explained many times – due to the fact Jessica Clark Landry was one of the whitest girls you could meet. But, even being "half-cousins," Quentin had been one of her best friends, he was her "little cuz", and now he was dead.

She had spoken with him 2 weeks ago. Her 22nd birthday he had called to say hello, they'd talked about basketball, school, everything really, and then she'd had to go. Never had she regretted anything more in her life.

So now she was on her way to her Aunts. Quentin's stepmother, her mother's sister. She would stay there for the week. Attend the funeral, help square Aunt Grace away. It was simple, but, far from it. And Jess had never wished for a freak automobile accident more in her life.

Pushing her sandy blonde locks out of her eyes and pulling her leather jacket tight around her, she trudged off of the bus, guitar case in one hand, travel bag in the other.

She was used to this, traveling alone – it was calming, relaxing, gives time to think.

It takes about 7 seconds for her to decide calling her aunt or uncle would be rude, and, since she knows where the house is – she might as well walk. So, that's what she does. She walks and thinks and breathes – and figures, maybe this will be alright.

**everyone's afraid of their own life  
if you could be anything you want  
****i bet you'd be disappointed, am i right?**

* * *

**So there you are for chapter uno. Lyrics at the end from "Lives" by Modest Mouse. You'll get more of a background on Jess throughout the story. I've got the next few chapters pretty much done, so I'll be putting 'em up soon if it's worth it. Reviews are cool, but not necessary – knowing what you think it great!**


	2. Where Have You Been

**Part 2, from the perspective of Brooke and Jess (OC) and. Song is "Where Have You Been," by Manchester Orchestra. Still possible spoilers.**

**Nothin' is mine, kay.**

* * *

Now that she really thought about it, a late night (or early morning) rendezvous with her spring line probably wasn't the most intellectual of ideas.

It was dark, because the lights were tricky, and locked, and well, Brooke always had someone else do it. It was dark and cold, at least for a Tree Hill April, and she hadn't bothered to change out of her short shorts and t-shirt.

At the moment, she was probably begging to be attacked by some crazy unknown monster creature. Something that would swoop down, make some guttural noise and drag her into the woods, then it would devour her, or implant little baby monsters into her stomach.

And now she's going crazy.

Add worried to cold and underdressed, and you've got the complimentary Brooke Davis trifecta.

"Just fabulous."

She was there, at the store for a reason that had long abandoned her. It was no longer about Peyton or Lucas. It wasn't even really about her. Mostly it was the entire premise of love. It was possible, it was existent. Contrary to the Brooke Davis experience, love was not a myth, not a hoax. It was viable, attainable. So why couldn't she obtain it?

Then, there it was, shaking her from her thoughts. The cracking of glass; heavy breathing. A man, in the store – by force – with her.

"Oh god."

This was not good.

* * *

A part of this entire situation seemed ridiculously contrived; walking, alone through the town center of Tree Hill. Like a terribly misplaced, poorly acted horror film or Pepperidge Farms commercial.

Or something.

Torn jeans, faded black Pink Floyd t-shirt, guitar. Jess had all the markings of a poor, dirty, traveling musician - or trouble maker.

Or something.

And it was true, a bit, the whole musician part. And traveling. And poor. But she smelled good and showered regularly – if not compulsively – and therefore was by no standard dirty.

By no means was Jess a hero. Tall, skinny, blonde and blue-eyed, she came across more "pretty" than "superwoman-esque". And by no means did she ever think she would find herself in a type of ass-kicking, Batwoman situation.

So as she walked and hummed, and occasionally sang – she thought of Quentin, her family, and possibly getting so very wasted, so very soon.

**they call holidays an option for a reason  
i hear your coming back to life just for the fourth  
i've been catching all your ghosts for every season  
i pray to god you won't come back here anymore  
**

**do you pray with him, too?**

The streets were silent; completely, empty and enveloped in absence. Everything was peacefully still for a moment, or two, or maybe more.

And then, there it was; the present. Noise, not alarmingly loud, but Jess knew from these frequent early morning romps in Nowheretown that any noise past 11:30 was grounds for a police escort and wire taps.

**they should deliver all my blessings  
****in small brown paper handbags near the porch  
i wished i'd known that you were bleeding  
****while i sat and watched you reading with the lord**

**i read with him, too.**

"What the fuck." She was now standing in front of a small building, the window next to the door was smashed, the door unlocked, and very wide open.

Common sense yelled to call the cops. Call someone, because this was so obviously wrong. Jess was no martial arts expert, no kick boxer, or regular boxer for that matter. So her brain screamed and yelled, no.

"Not a good idea."

**when you look at me  
i'll be digesting your legs  
cause i can hardly see  
what's in front of me these days  
and those days, too.**

She opened the door, completely at least. It was dark, the only light coming from a distant streetlight and the small crescent moon. She could see however a man, not a particularly large man – which even though Jess was slightly terrified, calmed her down a bit - this man pulling and yanking and slamming the cash register with a closed fist. The other, his right hand held tight an obviously battered woman, not much older than herself.

A stray piece of glass, a misstep, and crack – and all eyes were on her. Now she was just praying there was no gun, crossbow, or any other long range weapon around.

"Hey!"

She had alarmed him, which turned out for the better, seeing as he released his grip on the young woman.

"Um, yeah." In retrospect, something a little more frightening probably would've worked. But, she'd gotten his obviously unwanted attention, and he pushed his way past her, out the door he had come in.

Easier than she'd expected.

**i've got to take what i'm making  
and turn it into something  
i've got to take what i'm making  
and turn it into something  
for you**

The woman, she hadn't moved, and this was, if Grey's Anatomy served as any implication, not a good thing. So with haste Jess made her way over to the spot she had been dropped, behind the counter.

She was visibly more battered than Jess had originally seen. And visibly more attractive – although, noticing this was not on the agenda. Jess called 911, and realized she had no idea where she was.

"Clothes Over Bro's" she had whispered to the operator after checking her location. She didn't want to go too far, and no street signs were present, so she had hoped that would suffice.

"Hey," she'd whispered to the woman, quietly trying to soothe the stranger.

"Hey," had been replied in a scratchy tone, but the words came out strangled.

"You're gonna be just fine, I figure, since you're breathin' and all." Jess had wanted to lift some of the tension, maybe lighten the mood.

The dark haired girl had laughed, somewhat – the best she could.

"I'm Jess, Jessica Landry."

"Brooke Davis."

"Well, Brooke Davis, you should be more careful." She'd replied smiling, something about Brooke's aura just made the situation seem much - easier.

"You saved me," it was so quiet, she almost couldn't make out what had just been said.

**i've got to break what i'm making  
and turn it into something  
i've got to break what i'm making  
and turn it into something  
for you**

"Right place, right time." Brooke grabbed her hand, and the sirens could be heard in the distance. Here she was with a complete stranger, in a completely terrible situation, that felt better than she had any time in the last few months.

The red and blue lights swallowed the building. Reflecting off of the broken glass on the floor, filling the darkness, and bringing Jess back to the present.

They came, lifted Brooke onto a stretcher, and wheeled her away. A young man, one of the EMT's asked if she would like to join them in the ambulance. Jess should've said no. She barely knew this woman; she hadn't slept in days.

She definitely should've said no. Her aunt would worry. Did Brooke even want her there? Wasn't it some sort of rule that strangers don't ride in vehicles with each other?

**God, where have you been?  
God, oh God, where have you been?  
God, my God, my God, where have you been?**

"Yes."

* * *

Thanks for the reviews guys! I really appreciate it, and i'm glad you like it. I have a couple more chapters completely written, so updates should be pretty frequent for a bit.

Review if you'd like


	3. The Dress Looks Nice on You

**Numero tres. Haley/Jess POV. Song is "The Dress Looks Nice on You" by Sufjan Stevens.**

**Not mineee.**

**idaatje - naw, your imagination isn't crazy. I intended for there to be a slight resemblance to Peyton in her attitude, i guess you could say. But i don't plan on Jess needing Lucas as a savior, haha. And ****thank you graciously for the reviews!**

* * *

2 a.m was remarkably early for a phone call - annoyingly so. Haley reached quietly over Nathan's sleeping form to the bedside table, picking up and answering the phone in one swift motion.

"Hello." She stated irritation heavy in her voice.

"Yeah, sorry – is this, um, Haley?" Haley didn't recognize the female voice on the other line, but noting the sincerity in the woman's voice, eased her tone considerably.

"Yes, this is, is something wrong?"

"Yeah, sorta, I'm at the hospital with Brooke Davis, you were on her speedial and, yeah." Brooke was in the hospital? What? Why?

"What! Why? I'll be right there." Haley was frantic now, always expecting the worse. She shook Nathan out of his sleep (which proved to be as difficult or more-so than expected).

"W-what, Hales, it's 2 in the morning?" His voice was groggy and filled with sleep.

"Brooke, she's in the hospital, I don't know why – my god, what if she's dying and I'm not there and I don't even – and, what if, oh my god!"

"Hales – Haley, shh." Nathan said, in a soothing tone, but Haley was already running through their bedroom, throwing on the first pieces of appropriate clothing she could find. "I'm sure she's fine," and although he said it with conviction, Haley could still sense the trace of worry in his tone.

"Nate, why don't you stay with Jamie, I'll call you okay." and with that she was out the door.

* * *

Jess was pretty sure she had been hung up on. Haley was coming though, and that was good. Someone Brooke had known for more than 7 minutes would be there for her. The brunette wouldn't wake up to a near complete stranger, alone, by her bedside.

The doctors had told her Brooke had a concussion. Jess was thankful it wasn't serious, but extremely surprised the doctor would release Brooke's condition to her. Either medicine was nothing like House made it seem, or the staff at Tree Hill Hospital was terrible. That worried her, so she hoped for the former.

A knock on the door.

Jess swiveled in her seat, coming face to face (or, her face to top of head) with a young brunette.

"You must be Haley?"

"Yeah," the shorter girl said, extending her hand in greeting. "Not to sound rude, which it probably will, and sorry, but, who are you? And why exactly are you here? Why is Brooke even here?!" Haley had gone off on her own little tangent and was soon mumbling something about 4 wheelers and goats.

"Haley." Jess said successfully stopping the woman mid sentence. "I'm Jess, uh Jess Landry. Hello." She muttered with a slight wave. "Long story short, I was walking, some dude tried to rob that store, I walked in, he walked out – and here we are!" the blonde said in one breath.

"Why was Brooke at the store at 1 in the morning?!"

"Don't ask me. I got off the bus, minding my own business, and SHBAM! Now I'm here." Jess decided to omit why she was in Tree Hill exactly, assuming the other woman would say nothing. However Haley turned out to be much more perceptive than she had assumed.

"Why are you here? I mean, if you don't mind me asking," she had added softly.

"Funeral. Cousin died." Jess had muttered softly, sadly.

"Quentin?" Haley had asked, voice laced with concern. Jess had known this girl for mere moments, but already she could tell there was something welcoming about her, something real, like she had noticed with Brooke.

"Yeah, you know – uh, knew him?"

"He played basketball for my husband, I'm so sorry."

"Yeah, been hearing that a lot lately." She hadn't meant to make Haley feel bad, but this comment had succeeded in making the shorter woman blush and glance away.

"Oh, yeah, sorry."

"Naw, don't worry about it, s'cool."

"How exactly are you related, cause you know, you're white, Quentin, not so much." There it was - the million dollar question. But the way Haley had asked it caused her to giggle, and Jess definitely was not the giggling type.

"Half-cousins, my mom's very white sister married Quentin's dad when Q was 4 or 5, something like that."

"Gotcha. So how long has she been out, did they say she was going to be okay? Why aren't they in here, don't doctors work!" The blonde had quickly realized Haley was a rambler, which was rather endearing.

"Hey kid, don't hurt yourself." This earned a chuckle from the brunette. "It's been about half an hour, they said she should come too soon, it's just the pain meds they gave her. She just a little banged up, should be fine. At least that's what I listened to." She had added jokingly, which earned her a glare from the other woman.

This whole thing was surreal. Jess had never been one to put herself out there, talk to strangers, rescue people, or anything. But here she was, sitting in a hospital room with two people, both she had met minutes prior, enjoying a conversation with the conscious one. It was odd, unfamiliar, but she liked it. She enjoyed knowing maybe this whole process with Quentin and his family wouldn't be so terrible.

"Is that your guitar?" Haley had asked, effectively shooting her from her thoughts.

"Yeah it is."

"You any good," Haley asked playfully. Jess definitely like this girl, she was fun.

"I like to think so," she said with a smirk

"Well, I've been working on some music at a friends recording studio, you should stop by some time, if you're here for a while, or anything?" She sounded hopeful? Maybe Jess would get along well in Tree Hill.

"Yeah, definitely."

The conversation flowed easily for the next couple minutes. They talked about music, family, Haley had even told her a few stories about Brooke, getting her acquainted to the woman whose hospital room she was awkwardly occupying.

**when the world looks back  
when the face looks after that  
i can see a lot of life in you  
i can see a lot of life in you**

"Maybe I should go?" Jess asked Haley. She was both tired, and truly contemplating how weird her being there might be. She did feel welcomed and didn't think she was being shooed, but Haley was there now, Brooke would have someone, right?

**i can see a lot of life in you  
i can see a bed and make it too  
and i think the dress looks nice on you  
yes, i can see a lot of life in you **

_Voiceover Haley: Sometimes life puts you in these situations. Directs you towards the moments that end up being so pivotal. The ones that seem so small, and so insignificant. Sometimes life gives you the option to choose. Sometimes it doesn't. But those times, when you can't choose, those could end up being the most important._

"No, stay." Came Brooke's voice, soft and tired from the hospital bed.

* * *

**So, i kinda lied to you guys. I've become starving for reviews, uh-oh. I'd just like to know if you like it/are reading it/anything you might like to see? So maybe if you could drop a review. Please . I'd enjoy knowing what ya think.**


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